Orchid House (33 page)

Julia felt she should probably take over, but she had a language barrier, and Aling Rosa seemed to be doing just fine, handling the situation like a courageous mother bear protecting her own.

“He insists on speaking to Raul,” Lola Gloria translated for Julia. “He says he won't leave until Raul comes.”

“Does he need a towel? Should we let him come in?”

“Let us first see Raul's reaction.”

The man wiped his dripping hair from his forehead, selfconscious beneath the stares of the five women. Julia recognized him, perhaps from the fields. Then she recalled, he was the handsome man from the jeepney who had known who she was. He had attended her grandfather's wake, but she didn't remember him at the funeral.

Raul came to the door, rubbing his eyes. When he saw the young man shivering in the doorway, a look of surprise moved over his face, and he quickly ushered the stranger inside. He peered into the darkness before helping Julia push closed the heavy doors.

Lola Sita had disappeared and returned with towels.

“Go back to your cooking or sleeping,” Raul said to the women. “I will take him to the study, and we will discuss this in the morning.” He looked at Julia. “Let me talk with him.”

Julia nodded her head. The man gave her a steady gaze and then followed Raul to the study, leaving a trail of mud and water in his path.

O
N THE SAME DAY, BOTH TYPHOON YUNYA AND MOUNT PINATUBO
wreaked havoc onto the northern provinces of Luzon, Philippines. As the mountain shot its colossal ash cloud into the air, the cyclonic winds of the typhoon blew in, greatly exacerbating the damage. Roofs collapsed under the waterladen ash—some areas were practically raining mud.

This was the news coming in, and Manalo, his men, and some villagers surrounded the radio in the
carinderia
, listening to the reports. They'd spent the night in the basement of the sympathetic owner, not knowing their country was suffering from more than a simple storm.

Manalo wondered about Malaya's extended family. She'd certainly be frantic, wondering if they'd been evacuated. How he wished to be there for her, to comfort and reassure her.

In the morning Manalo went outside to a wet world. The sky was clear with some remaining clouds from the storm, but according to news reports it would soon be covered with ash. In the north, the day was like night. Manalo stretched his arms and watched villagers picking up pieces of roof and cleaning up debris that covered the muddy streets.

The country was in turmoil. The work of his life had amounted to little. Things weren't any better; in fact, they were worse! And now God Himself—if he too believed in God like Timeteo—was raining down His wrath. It didn't escape anyone's notice that the one of many volcanoes in their country to erupt was right in the path of the U.S. Air Force base—and even more so in the prostitution capital of Angeles. Even God wanted the American soldiers and the vile professions out of the Philippines! Manalo was thinking like a regular Catholic, he thought with amusement.

Then he saw them coming down the street. They were covered with mud and walking with the weariest of steps, but Manalo recognized them at once. His best friend and his oldest son.

Manalo stepped into the street, stunned. They stopped before him. “What are you doing here?” he said to Aliki.

Timeteo sighed heavily. “I couldn't stop him. He followed me, and then we met the storm.”

“I've come to join the fight, Father,” Aliki said with pride.

And as Manalo held his boy-turned-man in his arms, he knew the world had most certainly gone mad.

TWENTY

J
ulia awoke late in the day to a silent world outside. There was a unique quiet after the storm, even with the birds singing happily of their survival. Everything was drying out in the wane sunlight. Branches and coconuts, palm fronds and broken tiles littered the courtyard and lawns around the hacienda house.

She was finishing her breakfast and looking again into her grandfather's logbooks when Lola Gloria came to speak to her.

“Miss Julia. There is a dispute between two women. They ask you to help them, to mediate the problem, and to give decision to stop their disagreement.”

“Me? Why me?”

“You are the doña of the house. This is usually my role, or that of the head of the family. But with you here, they wish for you to mediate.”

Julia closed her grandfather's book with a thud. She'd been reading about energy options like hydroelectricity by water pressure, solar panels, and a modernized windmill.

“But I'm no mediator.” Julia wanted to laugh, except that Lola Gloria appeared to be completely serious.

“They had an argument over a pig. Whatever you decide will be respected.”

Julia sank her head into her hands. “I can't decide such a thing.”

“Please, Iha, do consider it. Such things unresolved can cause friction for years to come, and these two have been friends since babies. They are young women, they made jam with you, and of course they attended the Captain's wake and funeral. Your decision will not be questioned.”

Julia found Raul working on a ladder against the house, supervising some workers as they cut down a broken tamarind branch that dangled precariously against the roof. Broken tiles littered the ground around the ladder.

“The phone lines are down,” he said. “The storm and volcano erupting in the north caused a lot of damage. It always happens in storms such as these. But at least the electricity is back.”

“More eruptions, eh?”

“It was
the
eruption,” Raul said.

“How long for the phones?” Julia asked. She couldn't keep putting off her departure—and her family would undoubtedly be worried when they heard about the eruption.

“It could be today, or it could be a week.”

“Great,” she said under her breath. “Raul, I don't want to interrupt, but I guess some women are here. They had a dispute and are asking for help in resolving it. Is that something you have done in the past?”

“At times. But with a woman in the house, they would wish the matter solved by you.”

“That's what Gloria said. But I can't do that.”

Raul leaned an arm on the terrace roof and held the side of ladder, looking down at her. “I told them you might not like it.”

“You knew about this?”

Raul smiled at her rising anxiety. “Go and hear what they have to say. I will come with you.”

“No, this isn't something I want to start. I'm leaving soon.”

He came down the ladder and gave final instruction to the workers. Julia recognized one as the man who had arrived the night before in the storm. When she'd asked Raul earlier in the morning about the mysterious nighttime visitor, the foreman had simply said that he was a confused young man and had come to ask forgiveness. For what, Raul apparently wasn't ready to admit to her.

“Yes, you are leaving soon,” he said. “But until then, why not help as much as you can?”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” she accused.

There was an actual smirk on Raul's face.

“Why would I enjoy?” he said solemnly as he reached the ground, but again she caught his amusement.

The two women arguing in the back courtyard stopped immediately when they saw Julia and Raul step around the corner. Each held a child on her hip and greeted Julia enthusiastically. One had a beautiful smile; the other woman was plain, but spoke a few words of greeting in English. They wore faded but clean dresses with aprons and flip-flops. Their hair was pulled into neat ponytails.

Raul spoke to them, and they immediately began talking again. Julia sensed the quick anger that grew between them. Raul held up a hand, and their speaking ceased.

“This woman,” he said, pointing to the one with the beautiful smile, “says that several years ago they made an agreement to buy a young sow together. They purchased it with money earned from selling vegetables at the market. The plan was to breed the sow and sell some of the piglets and grow others to be butchered.

“The other woman says they had agreed that the first litter of piglets would be hers and the next litter would be the other woman's to sell or keep, whatever she chose. The sow birthed a large number of piglets, and she believes her friend is afraid the next litter will not be as large. That is the disagreement. They've been arguing about it for a week, and their families are being divided.”

Both women stared at her; then they began to speak again, waving their arms and moving close to her. The children in their arms began to cry, so the women only increased their volume to be heard. Julia felt their breath on her face, and her neck tingled as they moved in even closer. They expected far too much.

Raul did nothing.

“Wait, wait,” she pleaded with arms up. “Raul. I can't do this.” They were waiting for her response.

“No, really. I cannot decide on something like this.”

Raul looked disappointed.

Julia turned and walked quickly away, moving through the courtyards and gardens down the pathway through the staff housing. She could smell a mesquite fire and fresh laundry flapping in the breeze. Some boys looked up from playing marbles in the dirt and said hello as she passed.

What did they expect of her? She was only a guest, there for a few days longer. Her grandfather was buried, her job nearly done. What kind of place was this, where she couldn't do her own laundry, but she was expected to make a life decision for two women she knew nothing about? If she made a mistake, there could be animosity between childhood friends for life.

Julia walked by a small section of land given to the staff to farm for their own use. She hadn't explored this area on her daily walks. She continued down a pathway to the rice fields where grass-covered divisions cut the fields, into squares with milky water filling the insides. A few workers with wide triangular-shaped hats were bent over, walking slowly through the water.

Looking behind her, Julia hoped she had ditched her everpresent shadows this time. She needed a measure of solitude, some time to think. It wasn't just these two women with their disagreement; it was all the expectations. The respect, the smiles, the hope. That was it.

She had become their hope.

At the end of the rice fields, Julia looked back. Her young bodyguards were nowhere in sight. Her shoes were caked with mud. The pathway turned from the rice fields, and Julia guessed that if she could see the hacienda house maybe a mile back, she'd be walking parallel to it. She reached the back of the overgrown orchid fields and the trickle of a stream. Twice she stopped, waiting to see if she were followed. She didn't want to return, not yet. No one came. At last, she was truly alone.

She pushed through the brush, though her arms were scratched by branches, and kept going until she reached a giant bamboo forest. The bright green stalks were wide and tall, over twenty feet high, turning the light an ethereal jade. The confining foliage and warmth of late afternoon were like a sauna, bringing beads of sweat to her brow and making her shirt stick to her back. A wind came through the tops of the towering bamboo, fluttering the tall leaves but bringing little relief to her on the ground. Onward she went, until suddenly the trees opened and it was all sky.

The high cliff was sharp, and she could see far below a cove of black rocks with a dark sandy beach. The aqua waters of the sea stretched out to meet the gray-blue sky. Julia hadn't expected the sea this close to the hacienda; then she realized she'd been walking for at least an hour, maybe more.

At the very edge of the cliff she pushed off a few pebbles with her shoe as she leaned forward as far as she could. She'd been told the sea formed the easternmost border of the hacienda, but her walks had never taken her this far. A crisp breeze of salt air mixed with a tropical sweetness cooled her face and neck.

Far below, the waves rolled softly over the rocks and beach.Julia searched the ledge and finally saw stone steps going downward, worn down and barely visible. They'd been cut into the rock ages ago and softened in shape by the weather and erosion of time. She took one and sought the next as she wound down the cliff.

With a jump off the last few steps, Julia reached the bottom.

The small beach was a strange mix of black sand and then, closer to her, a creamy white. Julia sat on a rough volcanic rock and pulled off her shoes. The air off the waves cooled her face and toes. Looking across the water, she saw other islands jutting from the sea. Her arms stung and itched from the branches; red lines swelled in places. She moved around the rock and let her toes sink into the pale sand as a wave slid over her feet. As she cooled off with her feet in the water, Julia took in her surroundings.

The small rocky beach was secluded by massive rocks, and the thick green foliage was a canvas enclosing every space between. Unless viewed by a boat coming in close or from the cliff directly above, this place was completely hidden. It must be the cove from the story of Elena the Cook.